Others Summon Dragons, I Summon Legendary Knights Chapter 539 Lance Knight

Two great armies clashed beneath the gloomy skies. Banshees immobilised the souls of fallen warriors with their voices, while the Golden Order Knights laid waste to those before them. Across the vast battlefield, from the open plains to the shallow valleys, swords clashed against swords and spears struck shields. Among the millions spilling their blood upon the dark earth were harrowing Omens and Obsidians, some hundreds of feet tall, crushing friend and foe alike as they moved.

Those who died rose once more from the dark earth and lunged at the nearest enemy, returning to the battle as though death itself offered no escape. It was chaos, a never-ending struggle in which the Golden Order's advance had been halted by the growing army of Afterlife inhabitants.

At the frontier rode Andromedius Mortis, leading his cavalry through the enemy ranks and laying waste to every obstacle in their path. Their halberds were merciless, their armour shone with the light of the rune, and their horses neighed as their hooves pounded the battlefield.

"For this, I will ensure you never leave this domain!"

The voice erupted from seemingly every corner of the Afterlife, causing the very earth to quake beneath the armies.

Andromedius galloped straight into a gathering of Obsidians, sweeping his halberd through their weapons before cleaving through the creature directly ahead of him. His horse reared and brought its forehooves crashing down upon another, while Mortis swung his halberd through the abdomens of two more Obsidians.

He then hurled the weapon into the air, caught it by the shaft and drew a deep breath before launching it at an Obsidian that had retreated a great distance. The halberd burst through the creature's chest and pinned it to the ground.

His horse neighed and charged towards the fallen weapon, moving with such speed and force that the enemies attempting to intercept them were torn apart by the sheer momentum of its enormous body.

"Your confidence will be your suffering. For how long do you think your army will endure the torture of dying? You know they feel pain just as the living do."

Andromedius heard the voice again but paid it no heed as he retrieved his halberd from the ground.

A great number of the dead had gathered around him. He tugged at the reins, and his mount let out a thunderous neigh before bringing its hooves down with such force that a shock wave erupted across the battlefield, hurling the surrounding Afterlife inhabitants more than two hundred metres away.

"Fight, then. Fight until eternity. I will watch as you wither away."

The voice echoed once more, this time with less anger, though its contempt remained unmistakable.

Andromedius looked ahead. In the distance, Dirge continued hurling hundreds of enemies into the air with waves of her hand, while her screams tore through the landscape and ripped apart those caught within their reach. Though she was far from him, her cries still carried across the battlefield.

"I am Andromedius Mortis. Ruler the Damned, I have not come here with the intention of returning. I have come to embrace what I am, and that I shall do."

"This is foolish."

Andromedius thrust his halberd towards the gloomy sky. "You have gone astray. Like the Mana Tree, sentience has twisted you. Clearly, you have grown comfortable with authority and power, but I shall challenge that."

"And I will build a wall of flesh before you. You shall fight upon this very spot for eternity, and you will learn, though it will be the hard way that teaches you."

Andromedius Mortis laughed loudly as his war mount raced towards the battlefront, where the two armies continued their relentless struggle.

"You fight for an entity that gives you false promises! Some of you have earned your place in the realm of the Exalted, so why allow yourselves to be manipulated and used? You are its power! Stop! Heed its commands no longer, and it will be powerless!"

His voice thundered across the battlefield, rebounding through the valleys like a mountain's roar.

"That, or I shall kill you! I shall stomp upon your bones, and I shall win this war. When I do, none who stand in my path shall have a place in the renewed Afterlife!"

Andromedius bellowed as he reached for the Rune of Light, which descended into his arms.

"Find the Blesser and return with him."

The Rune of Light shot into the sky, leaving a blazing trail behind it. The battlefield descended into darkness, and Andromedius began to feel the influence of the Damned taking hold of him, slowly twisting him from within and transforming him into a Harrowing Omen.

Meanwhile, the rune travelled across great distances until it found a knight buried beneath a heap of crazed Afterlife inhabitants. One of his hands remained outstretched and bloodied, while nothing remained of his mount beneath the creatures swarming over him. From somewhere within that writhing mass, the general caught a faint glimpse of light.

His remaining eye widened, but before he could react, a spear plunged through it. At that very moment, the rune descended into his outstretched hand.

His fingers tightened around the stone as streams of light coursed through his body, filling him with renewed strength. He let out a tremendous yell and forced his way out from beneath the creatures, throwing them aside as he rose.

The wings of his helmet were stained with blood, and only one eye remained intact. His cuirass had been crushed inward, leaving his armour battered and distorted.

He stood heaving for breath before retrieving his lance and inserting the rune into it. The moment he did so, the blinding light surrounding the stone vanished, and the Afterlife inhabitants surged towards him like waves upon the sea.

Golden light erupted from the lance, weaving through the reliefs of golden centaurs engraved along its surface. Then a ring of light burst outward, hurling the approaching creatures away as an army of golden centaurs materialised around him.

They were constructs of gold, metal and light, heavily armoured and wielding long lances. Their armour glistened with a celestial radiance, while the thunder of their hooves rolled across the battlefield as they assembled around the knight.

Beside him stood their commander, a towering being with an enormous, heavily armoured upper body and a greatsword held firmly in one hand. Below the waist, its form dissolved into a trailing mass of mist, giving the impression that the creature floated upon a cloud of vapour rather than standing upon the ground.

"It's been centuries, Hightower," the lance knight said with a grunt.

Hightower grunted in response. "I see that." He brandished his greatsword. "Your orders?"

"I can feel our brothers and sisters. We're going to them, and whatever stands in our way dies."